


The Shadowrunner

by teganandsarasince2004



Category: Tegan and Sara (Band)
Genre: Cyber Punk, Cyberpunk, F/F, Shadowrun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teganandsarasince2004/pseuds/teganandsarasince2004
Summary: Tegan Quin and her twin lost their parents at a young age and have been surviving in the Warrens of Seattle circa 2068 since that very day. Working in the underbelly of a major city-state in the former United States. Their lives hang in the gray between legal and illegal. The subculture of runners who the entire world of governments, corporations, and rich metahumans use like pawns in their eternal games of influence and power. But, when Sara stumbles on a piece of intel hidden deep within a database. Their entire lives are upended in a matter of minutes. Will they be able to survive and continue against an ancient power?
Relationships: Sara Quin/Emily "Emy" Storey | EE Storey, Sara Quin/Tegan Quin, Tegan Quin/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
The rain of Seattle is essential to the ambiance of the big city-state that I've come to fall in love with. With it casting the neon lights of the Warrens in a distorted haze. Creating a unique aura and atmosphere that I highly doubt I could find it anywhere else. Especially considering that I have no experience elsewhere to compare it to. Like a modern noir vid, almost that is. Without warning, a fierce, piercing gale blows through the streets. Kicking up the paper soykaf cups, papers, and the various other trash upon on the street. Even threatening to knock me off my usually steady feet. Flipping up the collar of my dark leather jacket in an attempt to keep the rain and wind off my neck.

It isn't long before spotting the crimson awning of The Underground. A bar where Sara, Emy, and I tend to hang out damn near every night. A great way to unwind after a run, not to mention, a hub of modern rock, punk, and even some Metal along with the indy music scene that makes Seattle so special.

Some metahumans stand just a few yards away. Talking loud enough about women, love, god, and home through the persistent rain. Clouds of cigarette smoke linger around them for a moment before a long wisp rides off into the night on a random shifting of the wind. Orks, elves, a short troll with a deck strapped to his back, and a rather attractive tattooed dwarf, ignore my presence. That's okay, chummers, not like I wanted to actually talk or even be noticed. Nope, not at all. Looking down at my glowing holocom around my wrist. Its LED screen lighting up causes my hopes to raise for a split-second and I'm not sure why.

“Tee?” The familiar lisp of my twin forces a smirk to cross my features.

“Sara,” I reply, matter of fact.

An electronic screech pierces the night, the infernal shrill of a thousand devils, catches the attention of everyone and everything within the surround area. A sigh escapes my lips along with smoke from the cigarette I just took a drag from. Waiting for the feedback to clear from the anti-tracking device Sara always uses.

“Hey, drekhead,” I call to my sister. “Come get me. I'm at The Underground.”

“Meet me at Emy's. Five minutes. I'll give you a ride home, you bum.”

Without a reply, I hang up on her. Flicking my cigarette butt toward the street. I let out a sigh and roll my eyes at the thought of why she couldn't just get me here, but whatever. Emy's isn't too far away. My feet can take me there without any direction from my brain. Emily Storey, or Emy as we call her, is our fixer, best friend, fence, and drug dealer. Also, my twin's off and on girlfriend for the past ten years. Thankfully she isn't too far off. This is the nicest place within this area of the Warrens with Emy running a bit of an underground art gallery as the front to the rest of what she does. The suits and civs from downtown would have you believe that these streets out here is a war zone. To be fair, some parts of the Warrens are, but not here. This little slice of heaven is, in fact, ran by a local Yakuza boss who doesn't care about us runners. Emy even has us doing odd jobs for them every now and again. Usually some type of commando assault with Sara who can crack and deck into any network ever designed. She shuts down security, cuts the place off from the outside world. Messing up their surveillance, and can even take control of drones and turrets when we need a bit of what a rigger does. The rest of the heavy lifting is done by me.

Despite what the civvies think as they drink their synthetic wine and sleep in their large glass towers. This place is safer than they are in the big city. Especially for someone like myself who has been running the streets since adolescence. With the extra insurance on my hip – the large, blocky, and well-worn Ruger SuperHawk magnum that can shoot through damn near any body armor. Even better is that it is legal with the right permits. With my fake SIN and identity, I'm an upstanding citizen. Otherwise I'd be carrying my rifle, but lets not tempt Lone Star.

Past a flickering lamp on the corner of 5th and Morgan Street is the squat coffee shop and art house that Emy uses for the perfect cover. Plus, it combines the two things she loves and is a legit business. Pulling out a key fob as I walk toward the back door and just bypass the shop facade itself to the short stairs to her small apartment. Which is guarded by a heavy steel door with six locks and a terminal along with a port to deck into. Mostly for when Sara and Emy are dating again so my twin can just come and go as she pleases.

“It's me,” I say as I press the smooth button that lets out a soft electronic buzz.

“Come in,” Emy's voice comes from a small side speaker. Lighting a cigarette as I listen further, “Got a job.”

Several loud clicks precedes my elven friend who appears in her sweatpants and the large, old, and over-sized elven punk ban Athena t-shirt she got at the first concert the three of us ever went to. Grease smeared goggles cover her eyes while an acrid smell of ozone and smoke follows in her wake. The usual musk that surrounds a techno-artist.

“You really rock the aesthetic, dude. Could definitely be one of those techno-models,” I quip, a half-smile adorning my face.

“Damn right,” She replies letting me in.

Stepping past the taller woman, I catch a gleam off the chrome and plastic port under her flipped over pink and purple hair almost hidden behind her knife-like ears. Especially in these parts it is hard to not know someone who has some different type of cyberware or bioware attached to them. The glossy, shiny world of downtown needs us runners to keep working efficiently. To each their own, I suppose, but most of my life is digital in some form, and fake in many ways. So, I prefer a little analog whem it comes to my own mind and body. Not like I wouldn't rule it out if injury forces it. Still, would rather not.

Emy's apartment is much a reflection of herself than anything else whatsoever. It is her. Both warm and comfortable yet sterile and mechanical. With one side having a small kitchenette just big enough to store the overly processed and mass produced swill most of us is forced to eat. With a little reading nook with a bookshelf that is full to the brim and if it wasn't for the fact that this piece of furniture hasn't been around seemingly forever. I'd figure it would sag and break under the weight of the books themselves. Whilst a small bed just big enough for one person is set off almost as an afterthought. My mind wonders for a moment how Emy and Sara could fit on the bed together. Though, Emy is almost a waif in how thin she is because of the elven blood within her veins. Shrugging to myself. I knock the ash into a small ceramic bowl on the small wood table that passes for the dining room and desk. Whilst on the complete opposite side is an old work bench covered in tools, drones and their parts, and various other esoteric tech I am not privy to because I wouldn't understand it. Why her and Sara get along so well, I figure.

A half-built sculpture stands in the corner under an almost natural-looking light source above it. One can almost tell that it is a troll woman, yet somehow more elegant and feminine than most I've seen. Her face is soft despite its material while the tusks seem almost out of place but warranted. All of it old drones, circuitry, and wires fashioned into shape by hands more talented than I.

The same strong, resounding clicks that led me into here, break me out from my thoughts as I turn my attention to the front door. The automated locks finally finish and the door swings open. Revealing my twin who in most ways looks like me yet is so different. For one she is downright beautiful. Have to will the blush down at the thought. Bleach blonde hair worn up in spikes with the tips dyed varying colors. A datajack is prominent on the right side of her head, as well as other enhancements that lie both hidden and vaguely noticeable beneath the skin. Standing just an inch shorter than I. She has always been the boss since the day we were born, though. A jawline sharper than my own heart-shaped face, I like hers better anyways. Despite the enhancements she's not a cyborg, though. She retains her essence, her emotions and feelings. Unlike those that go under the knife to change everything about themselves. Essentially becoming a metahuman robot. Looking away from her as she embraces and kisses Emy. What is this the twentieth time they are back together? Causes me to roll my eyes a bit.

“Tee!” My sister calls out and I just give her a small wave.

“Emy has something for us to do. I could use the nuyen,” I say after a moment.

“Not just any job, mind you. It comes right from Tiny Tsung himself. A smash-and-grabd on the Pharam Corp Regional HQ. Make it seem like an average heist but in reality we want their intel. Tsung didn't specify the information that we need to grab. So as soon as Sara is in then I am going to download everything ASAP. Trash the place and run like drek back here,” Emy lays onto my twin and I.

I exhale a cloud of smoke, “security?”

Emy gives a small shrug, her features seem cold for a moment. “Standard for this type of place. Decent security and firewalls, but nothing you can’t get through Sara. Maybe five to eight security guards. No mil-tech, though. Just private weapons and body armor. Break out that AR and tear them to shreds. Ten thousand nuyen for a job that will take twenty minutes top. He did specify that the guards are to be iced and not knocked out, alright?”

I nod, but don't say anything.

My twin raises an eyebrow before shooting me a glance. I already know what she is going to say before she does. I feel the same doubt she undoubtedly does.

“Ya know,” Sara begins sounding a little bit cautious, “if something seems too good to be true. In this line of business – it tends to be too good.”

Emy walks over to a seemingly forgotten side table and takes a cigarette from within a mostly empty park. Lighting it up. She inhales and takes a deep breath, and lets out a sigh.

“I’ve been your fixer since The East Side Cut,” Emy begins as she leans against the table.

“You’ve never done us wrong,” I interject, but my friend raises her hand to silence me for a moment.

“I’ve done my homework. Besides Tsung never has bad intel,” the brunette woman says with a dismissive wave of her hand. Exhaling a cloud of smoke that surrounds her like a temporary aura. “He wants us in. Out. Back home before the sun rises. Get out there now. I’ll send the address before you guys get downstairs. Be precise. Be quick. Be safe. See you two soon.”

We leave without another word, and though I don't voice it, I hope Sara brought our gear. Since I readied everything this morning but didn't load it up. My twin's dark burgundy Ford Americar is perfect for us. It is a newish model and still rather en vogue allowing us to blend into both civ and shadows alike. Fast enough to escape most secucorp and local police models. Durable to take a little bit of a beating, and most assuredly it has done so over the last couple of years. And the best part is the hidden compartments my has modded in. For instance, my rifle is stored under the dashboard, if Sara loaded up the car that is, and with a little kick at the panel near my feet. It slides out along with three extra magazines. 

Kicking the panel, and smiling to myself as my Ares Desert Strike assault rifle pops out. A well-used, well-maintained gun that I inherited from an old buddy of mine who died on a jab some years ago. Strong, accurate, quickfire bursts that allow a lot more accuracy. While the car roars to life. I move into my seat and push the rifle back into its hiding space just in case we get pulled over by Lone Star. My mind expects it to be a cakewalk and an easy payday, and it wouldn't be the first time. My smaller sister seems to agree with her smile illuminating her features.

“Once we get this paydata,” my sister has her favorite elven punk band Athena blasting through the speakers but turns it down. “I'm going to ask Emy if she finally wants to move into my place. It's bigger.”

Without thought or control, a small laugh escapes my throat. It takes a moment to push down my own feelings.

“A little quick, don't you think? You've only been dating for the last decade. Perhaps you need ten more years to decide,” my comment catches both of us off-guard with the bitterness.

“Well the thing is-“

“Listen, Sara, do what your heart tells you, but know that she isn't going to move into your place even if it is bigger. You two are far too independent to ever chain yourselves to one another,” I toss my latest cigarette out into the ever-increasing rain.

“Maybe it will be better if we get a new place together? To create new memories in a new place.”

I sigh. The type of long drawn out sigh one issues from within a place of exasperation that you can only feel towards someone that you have been close with for a long time. Knowing full well what is actually going to happen. No matter what you say or do. You've seen it before.

“She isn’t going to leave the art gallery for you. You both like your privacy far too much. It will end in just badness for you two. What’s wrong, Sasa? Getting lonely?” My voice is more sarcastic than I mean it to be but too late to change it now. Why am I being such a bitch?

Sara scoffs with a cute snort at the end of it before her eyes focus back on the road. Yet, what if she is? Glancing at her for a second before shrugging. I've been single for over a year now. Hell, year-and-a-half by this point. After some time I just can't stand anyone in my personal life outside of Sara and Emy. Running a hand through my chin-length hair. Another sigh escapes my throat. This one a lot more audible than the last one. Soon enough my mind can focus on the job and not my own pathetic personal issues. No, it is now time to work. That's where I shine anyways.

“That’s it,” I call out to Sara. I would be surprised if she didn't see it before me.

An empty parking lot with several florescent lamps casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Only a half-dozen or so cars occupy a few spaces. No doubt security staff. The other buildings around are darkened and maybe a single security guard, but more than likely all offsite. Yet, the main structure is big enough to fix several different offices inside. For the small companies with the ambition and desire to be a TRIPLE A company, but alas is far below the minors that it is unlikely they will ever make it up to be the next Aztecnology. Steel, glass, and flickering fluorescent lights within. Even less light outside lends to an almost foreboding air to the while building. Regardless, I'm not worried in the slightest.

Sara parks the car close to the back maintenance entrance. Something she was able to figure out by a quick trip into the Matrix shortly after our arrival. Which is surprising that she can do that as quick as she did, but my sister is a person of many talents.

“Quick public record check has given me the building's layout. I got it all up here,” Sara smirks as she taps the plastic and chrome datajack implanted into her skull. A rather unseemly thing, but I get it. I understand how useful that is. “And that fuse box there has a jack, I bet. My way into their basic security. At least to the controls of the door. Our way in. Let's go, Tee-Tee.”

Grabbing my rifle and switching the safety off. I take a deep breath and exit her car. Glancing around the parking lot and surrounding areas. With no one else around, I move to the trunk of the car where my illegal military-grade body armor resides. A gift from Emy and I really don't want to know how she procured it. Taking the old katana still within its spartan black leather scabbard. I strap it across my back just in case I need to get up close and personal with someone. I'm just happy Sara put all my stuff back in her car from the last run. Perhaps she knew Emy had a job for us and was just making sure we were prepared. Either way, I need to be strapped like the street samurai that I am. Because Sara has just that flimsy Ceska Black Scorpion machine pistol on her hip. The same gun she's been using since we were sixteen. Can unload a lot of cheap rounds at one time. Still, no real stopping power for someone in even privatized body armor.

Like a bleach blonde blur, my twin pushes past me and rips open the fuse box with her cybernetic-enhanced right arm and hand. The subtle metal on metal sound of the jack plugging into her skull. Pulling her cyberdeck from off her beck. She sits down and spends a moment typing away before she is gone. At least mentally that is. Her eyes roll up into the back of her head and slumps over with a gentle thud onto the ground. My eyes dart from her to the area surrounding us. When she is deep in the Matrix I need to keep an eye out for her. Not just because she is completely vulnerable out here. Which isn't entirely true but is also true. Something about a fail safe. But no, during runs she can easily encounter White IC that will try and keep her out. Yet, even worse than all of this are the illegal Black IC that can kill her by frying her brain. Just got to make sure she doesn't seize up and bite her tongue off before going brain dead. A fate worse than death, truth be told, I've seen it once. Not to her, obviously, but it is one of those things that you could never forget no matter the amount of alcohol one drank.

Thankfully, before my mind can return back to that horrible moment. Sara's eyes flicker back to life and there's a cute smile on her face. Screwing on the silencer to my rifle. I quirk my eyebrow awaiting whatever-the-hell she has to tell me. It takes her a moment to gather herself, though.

“No serious security or anything. Six inside the building. Two of them patrolling the halls. The others are just being lazy shits and watching Wyrm Talk. That shit will rot their brains. Anyways, we'll need a key card. So, in around four minutes a guard will come through this door. Kill him and take the card. We get the others inside. Hit the data. Trash the place. Hightail is back home before the sun is up and get our nuyen. Get some weed, maybe some beer. Then get some 'bitches and hoes',” she always puts on that fake bravado and I can't help but chuckle.

“You got Emy, remember? The ladies are mine,” I say as the door keypad on this side of the door lights up. Sara overestimated the time the man would take to walk here. No worries, though.

A middle-aged ork opens the door and a look of surprise crosses his face for just a split-second. My silenced round pierces his skull and splatters the man's brains and blood across the small maintenance office. Sara grabs the man's key card and his cred chip with a shrug. With as much grace and silence I can muster. We move to the door left slightly ajar across from our position. Producing a mirror from my pocket I angle it to allow me to see a security guard sitting at a desk down the hall towards the main entrance. His attention on a holovid that is of the dragon Vyntia, who is the guest host tonight. 

One of the best things about running with my twin is the fact that we can communicate without a single word. Sometimes anyways. Pushing the fire mode of my rifle to single round, and she is ready to go with her own gun out. Bringing a finger up to my lips. I press the stock against my shoulder as I kneel down and aim up the shot. Waiting for a moment before I squeeze the trigger and the man's life ends rather abruptly. He slumps over just a little forward. Looking as if he is asleep, at least if it wasn't for the hole in his skull.

“Two,” is all I say.

“Past him and down the hallway there will be two flights of stairs on the left,” Sara whispers. “A guard's route will take him down those stairs. Should be soon.”

She is right on my heels as we walk as fast as we can without outright jogging. Don’t want to get caught too excited. Checking doorways and side rooms for guards or anything useful. Sometimes even the most seemingly unimportant thing has monetary worth to a rival corporation. Can, in truth, pay as much as the run itself, but nothing so far. Still, must be thorough.

At the heavy metal security door that leads to the stairway. It cracks open just as I come upon it. Stopping with my gun ready. The unfortunate guard sees me in just enough time to realize his life was over. Two rounds pierce through his cheap vest with Sara pointing her gun into the stairwell and making sure it is clear before she stri[ps the man of his cred stick from his pockets. Rolling my eyes but I say nothing. It is a hold over from our very early days when we were fifteen, alone, living on the streets with nothing but ourselves. When every extra cred meant food, a roof over our heads for a night, whatever. Not so much anymore, yet she still does it. I stopped years ago but who am I to stop her? Keeps talking about saving to move to Neo Tokyo and get out of this life entirely. No one believes her, though. She lives for this life. As do I.

Quick up the stair and the lock door is easily to get through with the card itself as the tiny light on the small LED goes from red to green. Another guard surprise on the other side, but he had his gun in his hand. My gun isn't at the ready but his shot goes wide. Hitting the wall several feet away from the open door. Causing an almost shell shock sound in the small tight area. My twin is quicker this time. A small burst from her machine pistol and it pierces through his body armor. The guard falls back against the opposing wall with a puddle of blood pooling beneath him. A young dwarf man that looks barely old enough to hold a weapon.

“Right down here,” Sara breaks me from my momentary lack of concentration.

Nodding, I follow my twin down the hall where the last two guard resides. Just outside the database room with both of their guns pointing at us. Pushing Sara to the side. I take the small caliber rounds right into my flak jacket. Not piercing through but I hiss in pain as I empty the rest of my magazine into the human male first before the elven woman, who tried to run the opposite way after firing at me, gets hit four times in her back. Falling with a soft thud to accentuate the end of the conflict.

“Shit, Tegan, are you alright?” The slight panic in my twin's voice brings a small smile to my face.

“Yeah. Didn't go through. Going to hurt like drek and bruise up,” I reply with a bit of a wince as my heart beat returns back to normal. Pushing the pain away from my mind. “I'm going to ransack the offices. You get that data and comm me if anything weird happens, 'kay?” Sometimes I don't get the chance to keep up on my sister's well-being whilst in the matrix. Got to trust her considerable skills. It is hard to not worry about her so much, but what else can I do?

She gives me a nod and a thumbs up before disappearing into the room in front of me. Scanning the ultra clean stainless steel office hallway strains my eyes. Everything is streamlined. Sterile. Super clean to an almost unnatural degree. A single solitary fern sits just a few feet from the closest office door. Along with a mass produced reprint of some generic modern art work. A little color to the sterility. Just as boring and non-offensive for the civs as everything else they get.

“Time for fun,” I mutter to myself.

Always the best part of smash and grab jobs is the destruction and potential of finding useful intel. From office to office I go in and turn the place over as if I am looking for something. Drawers pulled out from the desks. Terminals on their side and disconnected. Papers strewn about the area along with useless tablet and empty cred sticks. Nothing of value other than potential blackmail photos of a secretary and a very married CFO. Some nuyen and chopping one of those suits down. One of the best kinds of intel that can be found and easily sold on the Shadowlands BBS.

“I'm done!” Sara sings into her comm. “Got some useful intel as well. I'll go over it when we get back. Meet at stairs. Team TnS strikes again!”

“Good work,” I reply.

Bursting out of the small room I am in. I spot my twin with a twinkle in her eyes and a large grin. I know that look of hers. The look of a job well done with some fun to be had. Like kids escaping school for a carefree summer. We sprint out of the building. Laughing, teasing, and knocking shit down as we go. Making sure to replace the surveillance vids at the jack from the fuse box.

Cool, wet wind bellows at us as we enter into Sara's car. Cranking up the engine, and the music, and speeds back toward the Warrens. My twin signals to Emy through an unsecured connection but they don't share words. Never know who might be listening. So, until we are back at the gallery. The job isn't over. However, whilst I light my cigarette and crack the window open. I stare at the rain-soaked roads reflecting back the neon and fluorescent lights. Small drops of rain mix into the kaleidoscopic landscape that flies by. Exhaling, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. The ride back is always the longest and most relaxing.

It is quite easy to lose oneself into a deep introspective look on rides like this. Sara is quiet but she is drumming the wheel to the beat of the song. Definitely trying her best to contain her excitement. I know how tonight is going to go. We are going to get fucked up and dance wildly to loud music. Emy and Sara will make out and more or less ruin my mood until I find someone to rebound to. Probably do something with them I regret then pass out at noon and sleep until ten at night. I am both looking forward to it and also loathing it at the same time. A routine we've been doing since we were fifteen. For ten years nearly the exact same routine. Different jobs and even running with a few groups, and still do from time to time. Yet at the end of the day we go get fucked up on alcohol, if we are feeling rich, or synthol, stims, weed, and reckless abandon with women of all metahumanity.

At least we might get a decent band. Though, I prefer the ork indie scene over the eleven one Sara is so obsessed with. I never understood her love for it. Ork music is so much more raw, with a lot of underlying rage, and rock so fucking hard. Especially Azul Duo. Granted their newer stuff is a little less raw rock and more electro with some dance. However, deeper in their discography lies the raw harsh vocals, crunchy guitar riffs, and emotional lyrics. Not that their lyrics aren't emotion today. Just it is so different. Not in a bad way, I guess. Just more mature, for sure, but different than their older stuff.

“Dude, wake the fuck up,” a swift punch to my bicep returns me back to reality.

“Sorry,” I reply as I notice my cigarette has burnt out, “I was thinking about how much I look forward to unwinding.”

“Yeah, whatever. Lone Star checkpoint,” My twin hisses at me.

In an instant I am back to my senses knowing full well how illegal everything we have actually is. Even though we have our fake SIM chips. That won't save us from the rifle and body armor charge. Too fucking close to try and hide them in the hidden compartments.

“I am going to climb into the back and jack into the matrix to find us a better way back to Emy. Just get us out of here,” She is already climbing into the backseat.

Once I am in the driver's seat it is obvious the officers notice something is up. With a quick stomp on the gas. I spin the car around causing the wheels to screech. It is great that this baby has enough torque to get us speeding off in record time.

“Fuck these pigs,” I yell out.

Shifting gears to not lose a fraction of horsepower as I drift into alleyways. Through back roads that only those living in the shadows go through. Past stim dens, memory houses, and strip clubs. Gangsters, Yakuza, and slum dwellers look on and jump back to avoid being hit. I have tunnel vision. Like my reflexes are heightened. I outrace Lone Star as they know full well that they can't catch up with us. Especially on these streets and in this slum with this car. A place Sara and I know better than most.

“Left!” Sara shouts.

I make a sharp left turn past a closed gas station. Cutting off another car, but whoever it is helps slow down Lone Star. As they barrel across the lanes trying to avoid me.

“Right! Right! Turn right!” My twin calls out. “Now!”

“Okay! Goddammit okay!”

Pulling the parking break forces a sharp turn before I yank it back up to speed down an alleyway the car barely fits into. After emerging from the other side I recognize the area. It is only right around the corner from my own apartment. Emy's is only ten safe minutes away. Rolling down the window. I let the rain inside to cool me off a bit. Lighting a cigarette to calm my heart with and slow it down to a more relaxing pace. This is Yakuza territory. Lone Star rarely will come here especially coming after two runners who aren't even wanted for anything specific.

“You belong in a fucking action vid, Tegan,” my smaller twin claps her hands for a moment. “First round on me. Hell, first two rounds on me.”

Changing the radio station til I hear Mandy the Ork who has the smooth voice and bumping indie rock at this time of night. Turning it loud. I don't care who knows that it is us. This is our neighborhood. We don't own it, but we do work for those that do own it. Well sometimes. Considering we've been here since forever. No one will mess with us. Let the whole place know we have returned triumphantly from a job well done. I am sure everyone in the know will know by the time dawn comes.

“She might be dead!” Sara and I sing together as Azul Duo plays over the crackling speakers, but it sounds perfect. “Out of my head!”

I'm not really a great singer by any means but Sara could definitely front a band. An appealing notion, if I am to be honest. I shake my head to rid the image of my twin in a leather jacket with a guitar. Scream singing with some very underground, very indie band. Pulling up behind Emy's place finally ends the adrenaline rush, unfortunately.

“I'll admit Azul Duo is the best of the ork indie scene,” Sara grins after we exit the car. “Domino Effect is brilliant! Like the best album five years ago. Next time they are in town we should catch them.”

“I always catch them,” I toss my cigarette butt towards the road.

“I mean together. As sisters!” She is rather silly at the moment, but easy pay days will do that.

“Sure, sounds awesome, yeah,” I reply, casting her a sideways glance.

Emy is happy once we arrive and transfers us our shares. I bid the two a good night with a promise to meet up with them later at our spot. Then I once again find myself in the dangerous area that is my own mind. Though, not as self loathing as it usually is. I had to get away from the two for my own mental health. At least for the moment. I love Emy, she is essentially like family to me. And, if she makes Sara happy, at least for the moment, then even better.

“Still,” I sigh to myself.

Once back home I take off my vest and shirt to see the blue-purple-yellow bruise on the right side of my stomach. Ugly, I hiss for a moment to let off some of the stress from the pain. Then I light myself a cigarette and grab a bottle of pills from within my medicine cabinet. Taking two of them and a large drink of water from the faucet. Just numb yourself until the pain is gone, right? Story of my life.

“A shower then time to party. I need to distract myself for an entire night spent with Sara,” Who am I talking to? Doesn't matter. “One day you will tell her.” I look at the bags under my eyes. Removing my clothes a moment after. Tattoos and scars. My body is the canvas of my life and career. Definitely not a work of art, no. Then again Sara isn't too much different and she is definitely a work of art. Odd. “You won't you chickenshit. The fuck you will. Just date fake girls until they become boring. The life. The fate left to one such as myself.” I drop the half-lit cigarette in the sink and run water on it. Exhaling, I turn on the shower and get in when it is still cold.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh god,” I groan as a consistent, annoying, impossible to ignore throbbing rings throughout my entire head.

From top to bottom. From tip of ear to tip of my other ear. Every part of my skull is just in pain. My mouth is drier than ever. The taste of synthol, cigarettes, and someone's lipstick linger on my palate. Who was I kissing? With the opening of my eyes, there are no new revelations. Other than my clothes being strewn about as if I disrobed whilst walking to bed. A real possibility. Sitting up is a task in of itself, and the culprit for that is the large, ugly bruise.

“That really fucking hurts,” I mutter to myself.

Swiping a cigarette from the pack resting on the small bedside table. Lighting one up, I take a long fortifying draw from it. Rubbing my forehead to try and remember anything from last night. All I can recall is loud noises, colors, bodies, my twin's handsome face. Running a hand over my face to try and restore my complexion back to its normal pallor.

Tugging on the hem of my sleeveless shirt to hide the bruise beneath. I stand up with a satisfying stretch to get the sleep out of my limbs. Padding softly towards the kitchen. The cold pot of soykaf still exists half-full in the fridge. Pouring some into a mug, I check the black, bitter liquid in an effort to just kick start my brain. Leaning against the messy counter, I sigh. Spotting my holocomm across the room. The is a part of me that wants to call Sara and Emy to see how they are doing. Though I am sure they are as bad off as I am, and I really don't want to wake them up as I bet they are still sleeping.

Shaking my head in an effort to regain my senses. I grab my dirty clothes and shove them into my hamper. With a quick shower right after, my senses are fully back. If not back to full health, at least my mind works. Last night's rager is going to require all day to shake off. I am just thankful that I got a great payday in my account from last night, and if I wanted, could take a break from work for a month or so. A fun thought but got to keep the skills sharp, keep working, build our reputation up. Money, nuyen, is nice to have but isn't the end goal at all. No, there's a lot more to do.

Before I can even finish my next thought. My holocomm lights up and plays that annoying jungle beat that came with it by default. Not a number I know. So with a shrug, I ignore it and plop down on my cracking fake leather couch. Rubbing my eyes, I turn on the holo and change to the news. Just in an effort to see if they are talking about the break-in last night. It is rather rad to see your deeds on the holo, but not today, unfortunately.

My eyes close in pursuit of more rest than what I got. Yet, it isn't exactly restful. Visions of my twin waking up beside me instead of Emy. Clad in only an old t-shirt and her underwear. Like an augmented goddess as the early morning sun hits the side of her face. For some reason, I look away to avoid those brown eyes of hers. The kind that can stare right through me. Almost as if she can lay my soul bare unlike anyone else I have ever met. And, unlike everyone else I have ever dated. I wouldn't mind her having such access to my inner being. Brushing a stray blonde hair out from her eyes. Leaning in to place a kiss on her lips, as I push her gently down on the bed.

The annoying sound of my holocomm wakes me up with a frustrated groan. A curse escapes my lips, and I stand with a huff. Pissed off, beyond mad that some asshole had the disrespect to wake me from a dream about the only woman I could ever want. Not that whoever is calling would even know. Still.

Without looking, I answer, “hello?”

“Tee, how are you feeling? Still alive?” My twin's voice comes through. Subdued, tired, and I can almost smell the hot cup of soykaf she is nursing.

“I'm alive,” my voice is harsh, low, and tinged with all the cigarettes I smoked last night. Every single one of my twenty-five years of life coming back at me in the most insidious way. “Barely anyways. Want to get a soykaf?”

I hear a little chuckle on the other side, saying, “you get dessert soykaf, chummer. More sugar and candy than caffeine. Still, meet me at Berat's in, like, ten or so minutes.”

“Alright,” I hang up the phone and let out a small whine.

Grabbing a random band t-shirt hanging off the back of my chair. A pair of pants draped on my dresser that I think I wore last night. Smells alright, at least I think so. Pulling my boots on with a grunt. I make sure everything is in my pockets before grabbing the deodorant to feel a little less grungy despite the shower. Before I head out into the frigid late fall Seattle weather. I check my comm for the time. Noting that it is a quarter till four in the afternoon. Not surprising that I slept the day away. Sighing again as I light up a cigarette and head out into the late afternoon.

Walking past food stalls with their delicious, mouth-watering food and merchants hawking wares both useless and useful, as well as some illegal. The same ones parked in front of the same old apartment building. With my stomach audibly grumbling as I pass a woman grilling some kind of delicious kebab. But, I can't stop and be late for Sara. Need caffeine first. Then perhaps a pastry as my first meal of the day.

The squat coffee house is a compact stone and steel building but very tidy. Even from the outside a delicious aroma of soykaf mixed with tobacco from the hookahs surrounding the area. Thanks to the outside tables already full of patrons. Those with a little bit of money to try and make them forget their jobs, their days, their lives in general.

Once inside I don't spot my twin and a part of me is disappointed. Still, I know she will be here before long. Walking up to Berat the aging Turk who has owned this establishment since way before Sara and I moved to this area. Jet black hair streaked with the silver of time and age. Laugh lines show the years of the joviality that the man has brought to this area. Probably one of the reasons why this place never gets robbed or attacked. That and Berat is more than just a simple seller of soykaf. He knows things about nearly everyone in this section of the Warrens.

“Tegan! How are you doing today, chummer?” Berat calls out in a deep, rich tobacco voice.

“Hoi,” I reply with a smile. “Goedemiddag. That's the extent of my Dutch for now. Maybe more later.”

“I got real coffee today. Espresso, double shot, and I can make your usually sugary concoction with it. I promise it will taste a lot better and give you more of a boost. Just, well, it will be fifty nuyen,” The man looks at me with intense hazel eyes. “What do you say? I know Sara will definitely get the rest of my stock. So act now.”

“Sure, I got a little extra spending money for the moment.”

“That is what I've been hearing most of today, yes. How the twins were able to lift an easy payday. Word on the street is there might be another one very soon. Not that I know a whole lot about anything of the sort. I'm just a barista. I hear things sometimes,” Berat smiles, a twinkle in his eye, and I've wondered for the past ten years what his story truly is. Perhaps it is best that I don't know.

Slipping the man my cred stick, he takes his fair amount and hands it back with a smile.

“I'll send Enora over when it is ready.”

“Thanks, Berat, and thanks for the head's up,” I reply. “Don't know what Sara and I would've done without you.”

He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“No need to thank me for something so trivial. News like that slips by me every now and again. Perhaps I've even given hints and advice to that techno artist that your twin is always pining for?” He says with a bit of smugness. My demeanor steels up but I have to relax. She's just my twin to everyone else. They don't know how I feel when I hear my friend Emy's name in conjunction with Sara's. “Regardless, I have a soft spot for you three. Now go relax. It looks like you have barely slept.”

“Yeah, something like that,” I mutter before making my way over to an old and well-worn multi-colored couch. Patches are sewn in to keep the abundance of stuffing from spilling out. Old but still quite comfortable.

The place is busy with people I recognize walking in and giving me small waves, kind words, smiles, and the like as they pass by with their coffees, soykaf, or hookahs and tobacco. Trying all to stay up, happy, and going. I feel myself slipping into a weird momentary depression. Well, maybe weird for someone else but when I get into my head too much these mini-depressions can just sprout up when and where ever. I am sure when Sara gets here she'll notice and will be able to defuse me like a bomb, a sadness bomb ready to go off. I sigh and light another cigarette. Tapping it off in a brass ashtray out of habit. I take a deep breath off the little cancer stick. Just trying to keep it together.

A young woman in her late teens with long brown hair streaked with multi-colored highlights running through it. A pair of blue-green goggles rest on her forehead. A midriff-showing t-shirt with the dwarven industrial band Neon Gravity on the front. Low-slung hip-hugging jeans with tears and holes in them. Spiked belt and wrist band along with combat boots. I can't tell if she is trying too hard or just is into it and wants to rock the aesthetics. I don't really care either way. She's cool and she's the orphan Berat's been raising since before Sara and I showed up here. We've had a lot of dealings, a lot of them, over the years.

“Tegan,” Enora calls out a few feet from me.

“En,” I smile at the woman and thank her for the coffee. “How are things?”

She smiles and shifts her weight to her right foot. A hand under her chin in a parody of serious thought.

“Well, I dumped Mike yesterday,” She says.

I chuckle, “Definitely not a keeper, but I have to ask – why?”

Her face twists up in disgust, she replies, “you know Karen Kole over there off third and twenty-second? He got that bitch pregnant. Trying to tell me it wasn't him, but it's too late. Fuck him anyway. What can you do?”

“He isn't worth your time. I mean, Karen is just awful. You got this industrial punk look going on that I, and I know others, totally dig. Chin up, En. Guys suck sometimes. How're the streets doing this time of year?” I ask knowing what I know, but she and Berat always know something a little bit more. Plus distracting her from her ex is always a good idea.

Enora smirks, she knows my game, but she will play it a little. “Well, in this pond of big and little fish. It is always the big ones eating up the little ones as the little ones eat those smaller than them to try and get bigger. There are a few of these little fishes trying to get up now. This side of the Warrens is a powder keg. Be careful, Tegan. You and your sister have always been like big cousins to me. Don't get hurt. If I say anymore uncle Berat will have my head, chummer. Love you.” We share a tight hug before she takes off back toward the man she has always referred to as her uncle. Despite the two looking completely opposite of one another.

“Enora!” I hear Sara call out just as the young woman makes it back to the counter. They share silly waves before my twin, with a bounce in her step, sits down beside me. “Is that real coffee?”

I nod, “Berat said he got some. I know he's saved you enough for a few cups. Go get it.” Sipping the cooling drink, I let out a sigh. I do like real coffee. More nuances in the flavor. Soykaf is just bitter for bitter's sake. Because coffee is a bit bitter so soykaf has to be bitter just because.

“Right back,” my twin stands up and is quick to make her way up to the counter. The excitement in every movement.

I know she will want to hang out here for at least the next couple of hours. Especially when the real stuff is available. Sighing, but a content sigh this time, I cross my legs and look around the room as I hit the cigarette and put it out. The décor is a mishmash of styles. Easy to see where Enora has decorated with the band posters of all metahumanity the girl just straight loves Industrial Punk. With even a poster of the classic band Nine Inch Nails. One of those bands everyone in the Warrens knows. The Underground hosts cover bands of them all the time. Along with darker colors on the furniture. I think Berat just let her go wild the last time they got furniture. While closer to the counter his influences grow more. Nice pictures of the Yakima Valley from way before I was born. Back when they were just peaceful farms and not a collection of condos, strip malls, fast food, and fakery as far as the eye can see. The seats near the counter are all dark leather with tables of hardwood. Incense floats through the air like an atmospheric drug. There to get you high on the belief that we don't live in the slums. If even for a moment.

Sara walks over to me singing some song that I don't recognize right away, “when I'm out walking. I strut my stuff and I'm so strung out. I'm high as a kite. I just might stop to check you out.” Coffee in one hand. She is happy, even singing Athena's cover of the ancient Violent Femmes song as she tries to imitate those raspy vocals.

“Let me go on like a blister in the sun! Let me go on. Big hands, I know you're the one!” I sing in response to her. Eliciting a laugh from her. Something that can always. Always. Bring me out of a depressive mindset.

“Body and beats, I stain my sheets. I don't even know why. My girlfriend, she's at the end. She is starting to cry,” Sara retorts doing a little bit of a strut dance thing whilst singing.

I can't help but join in her mirth as she sits down. An extra-large cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Blowing on the pitch-black liquid. Her entire countenance changes with the sip. As if she suddenly learned all the mysteries of life. To be content under some deity's adoration. For at this very moment my smaller twin, the beautiful woman with a distinctive look. Worships at the altar of the exalted almighty coffee bean. For a moment, just a split moment, I find myself adoring her. Wanting to glorify, to make holy, my own sister beyond what I already do. The love of my life. But, alas, I must turn my gaze away from the face I can stare at forever. So as to not seem weird and draw ire.

“Ya know,” My sister begins, “I wouldn't mind doing one large job that I could retire on. Maybe get on a group and do something for one of the giant companies. Make a lot of nuyen and open a book store in Neo-Tokyo or something.”

“I've heard this before,” I reply, but to be honest, truly honest to myself, I wouldn't mind one giant score. Just leaving Seattle with Sara. I'd go anywhere with her. No matter what. “But, yeah, it does seem rather... romantic, I guess would be the word. Just something different.”

“Romantic is a good word,” she says after a moment of thought. “It is one of those romantic ideals.”

It is good for the soul, well my soul at least, to hang out with Sara. Just her and I. Drinking coffee and snacking on the good pastries Berat makes every morning. My spirits are lifted by the end of it all. My demeanor has changed. I feel like a recharged Tegan. Ready to go again for the next eight or so days before needing a new charge.

Sara's comm begins to go off and I see it is Emy. A half-smile crosses my face as I lean back. My second sugary coffee concoction half-empty in my hands. Sipping on it as I try not to listen in on my twin's conversation. It is hard to do, however, since she didn't get up.

“Calm down, Emy,” Sara says with a lot of concern in her voice.

I raise an eyebrow and look at my twin.

“It is probably a stupid joke or something. Well, let me jack in and follow the trace. I know. I know she has been dead for seven years. His intel is generally good and reliable. I will be there soon.”

Who's been dead for seven years? Oh, God, there's only one person that lines up with.

“Lindsey?” I ask, not expecting an actual reply.

She's the only major person all three of us knew who died then. It was godawful. I can remember it like yesterday. The absolutely worst job and utter failure from the entire team. We lost them all except Sara and myself. I couldn't save our best friend, my girlfriend, Lindsey. I close my eyes for a moment, but I open them just as fast. The bullet-riddled corpse of Lindsey beside the burnt-out husk of the troll rigger enters my mind's eye. We were eighteen and it was the first major failure. Failure in intel. Failure in weapons and armor. Failure in execution. We were young with only a couple of years under our belts. Lindsey was the leader of our outfit, but the Mr. Johnson who hired us set us up. Looking at Sara, the scar that still mars her right cheek and the right side of her neck. I will never forgive myself for letting her actually get shot.

“Tegan, let's go,” Sara's voice is serious, the lisp accentuated by it, but I know this tone all too well.

Nodding, I chug the rest of my coffee and leave the mug on the coffee table. Sara and I give our thanks to Berat and Enora. We jump into my sister's car and speed off toward Emy's art house. Sara doesn't explain anything to me yet, and to be honest, I don't want to know until we got most of the facts together.

“She's dead!” I hear Emy's voice hit the ceiling with how loud she can get. “That's some bullshit, Rogue Blue. How long have we known each other?”

Sara and I enter the apartment quietly, but definitely not meek. We see our old heavy weapons and explosives specialist. An older ork man with a sawed-off shotgun holstered on his waist. His hair dyed an electric blue with a myriad of piercings.

“My intel is never wrong, Emy. You goddamn know this!” His voice is just as strong and booming as before. I know we call him Rogue Blue, but I still remember him as Ted the sweet guy I turned down so many times before I even came out of the closet.

“Lindsey's dead, Ted,” I say. “She's been iced for damn near eight years. All of a sudden you show up here saying she contacted you this morning. How do you expect us to react? I love – loved her goddammit.” My fists ball in rage as she was the only woman outside of Sara I ever actually loved. I didn't think about my twin as much with Lindsey around. I try to will the tears away.

“We all loved her,” Emy adds.

“Yeah, this is why I am going to get deep into the matrix. Someone hook me up to an IV please?” My twin's face is stern. Even though she says please it is most definitely an order. “Just in case this takes some time.”

“I got you,” Ted says and follows her to where my twin has set up her cyberdeck earlier.

Arms crossed over my chest I look over at Emy. Who is lighting a cigarette with the butt from the one she just smoked. Going to be one of those kinds of days. Lighting one up myself. Emy and I share a quiet moment. Which is just fine for me. I have nothing to say. Not to mention I'd probably break down into tears if I try to say anything right now.

“I'm sorry,” Emy says after some time. “For everything. It was all my fault.”

“I-” Begin but what do I say? “You know I have long since forgiven you. Besides, it wasn't your fault. I've come to terms with this. How many runs have we done with each other?”

Her voice cracks and is trying to not cry, she replies, “hundreds.”

“One mistake out of hundreds. You are my best friend and Sara adores you. It is all good. We are all good,” I say, meaning the words but I don't think I have ever expressed them to Emy before.

Ted returns and it is clear on his face now. That he looks utterly exhausted mentally. I've known him long enough to recognize this. Despite the scary glower he tries to project. Despite his tusks and horns. He's a teddy bear. A teddy bear with anger issues sometimes.

“Anyone want a drink?” Emy asks. “Wine, some decent scotch, I think I have a beer or two in the fridge.”

“I'll take some scotch,” I answer, sitting down at her table.

“Just a beer,” Ted joins me at the table.

“Sara's doing her thing and I am sure she will find something. But, Ted, can you tell Tegan what you told me?” Emy places a bottle of scotch and three beers on the table. Placing a glass in front of us two. Before pouring the straw-gold liquor into my glass and her own.

“Well, I did a run with Zero Gee's group up in Vancouver. I've been running with them since Portland got a little too hot. A simple extraction. We go in. Grab the scientist. Bring them to the drop-off. All standard. I'm in my apartment just watching some music vids and smoking. When I get a message on my deck, right? I printed it off,” He pulls out a paper picture and hands it off to me.

“That's new info,” Emy says, sipping her scotch. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tegan needed to see this first,” of this there was no doubt in his voice. Emy didn't retort.

It's rather grainy and it is easy to tell it is low resolution. However, a woman is reading a book in some prison cell. But, it isn't any normal government prison. No, this place has guards equipped in mil-tech. The cell is just big enough for her to lie on a mattress, a toilet, a sink, and a small vid monitor. Which is surprising. It is definitely Lindsey with her shoulder-length brown hair. Her general build, but she appears to be more synthetic than organic. What the fuck did they do to her? What happened? I hand the photo to Emy. She's a fucking cyborg. An illegal one at that.

“What the fuck, Ted? Like you just randomly got it,” I try not to cry. I really try not to cry. Big girls don't cry. That's what they always said at the orphanage.

“The message itself just said, 'Help me. Black Site. Mitsu,'” Ted finishes and it goes quiet in here.

I'm quick to drink my scotch and pour myself another one. The fiery liquid leads to a heady clarity that helps a little. “Obviously it is a Black Site for Mitsuhama. Just that could be any-fucking-where.”

“I just hope Sara comes up with something. I am going to send her a message real quick,” Emy gets up and grabs her comm.

Hours pass with the three of us reminiscing about the past. Mostly the people we miss. What we have been up to. About Lindsey. I drink so much. So, so much to the point that it feels as if an angry cauldron boils within my stomach. Full of fire in liquid form. Full of numbness. The regrets, god the regrets. I excuse myself from the table. Just leaving down the stairs and out into the raining evening. The sun is far down past the horizon. I'm just drunk enough that I can't stand being around anyone at the moment. Anger, oh to whatever god there is, the rage has built inside to an nth degree. To a point where, if some unlucky soul, a fool that risks life and limb, if they wish to fuck with me I will gladly invite them to do so. There's that feeling, the one that people loathe to feel, but the one we each get. That feeling of complete and utter numb rage.

As if to answer my question it isn't but a few blocks when I see Enora walking home. Headphones on listening to whatever band. Her head bopping up and down as she walks. A couple of toughs walk towards her. Of which usually I wouldn't worry as she can take care of herself, but I just want an excuse. A goddamn reason to lose my shit for an utter moment.

“Hey, baby, come on. Let's just go to my place. I got actual alcohol and some stims,” one of the guys brags as the other steps to trap the young woman between them.

Enora laughs, “no, thanks. Not interested. Later, dudes.” She tries to walk away but they stop her by grabbing onto her wrist.

That's when they lose all focus on anything but her. So I sprint and shoulder tackle the guy not grabbing her. Sending the elf down to the sidewalk. The other man lets go of Enora and pulls out a switchblade. I've done it hundreds of times. Hand-to-hand combat isn't my specialty but I have fought so much in my life. I dodge the knife. Grab his wrist. Disarm him and stab the knife into the man's throat. Fuck he thinks he can do? Try and stab me without paying the price. Enora just simply sidesteps and is out of the falling dying man's way. While the other is back on his feet and I make the rookie mistake of having my eye off him too long and take a punch to the jaw.

Getting into a serious mode, I duck out of the way of the next punch the man throws. Chopping the man in his throat. Kneeing him in the balls. An uppercut to his chin has me smiling when blood comes out from a heavily bitten tongue. The man staggers just enough for me to pick up a glass bottle. Smashing it over his head has the ne'er-do-well down to the ground. Stabbing the neck of the bottle, ironically, into the neck of my assailant.

“That felt good,” I say after a moment. Trying to catch my breath I light a cigarette.

“Hoi, Tee, I have a taser,” Enora smirks, “But thanks. Did this place a favor. I'll see ya.”

“See ya,” I give her a soft wave. Cringing at my jaw swelling but whatever.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke. I check over the two bodies and take their cred sticks and a cheap hold-out pistol I put in my pocket. Sighing, I find a place to sit down and think to myself. A concrete holding wall outside of some abandoned lab from before the Awakening. Now just a hang out for delinquent teens, drug users, and the occasionally creative-minded person to tag one of the few clear surfaces left without and within.

What the fuck am I even doing out here? This is so stupid and childish. I just couldn't be around those two. The atmosphere felt oppressive and stifling. That well I dug for myself so long ago when Lindsey died seems to now be overflowing. Cradling my face in my hands I just begin to sob for what seems to be forever. Finishing up as I hear someone walking. Turning off the waterworks. I remove the hold-out pistol and look up to see Sara with her hands in her leather jacket and a sad expression on her lips.

“How are you?” She asks, sitting down beside me.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I let out a shuddering breath before I reply, “I'm okay. I thought I put this shit behind me. It wasn't easy then.”

“I understand,” her reply is short but caring.

“What did you find?”

She doesn't respond right away. After a deep breath, Sara finally says, “that was Lindsey in the picture. It seems she is part of an experiment after having her life saved. I traced the message to coordinates just north of Vancouver. Emy is getting some stuff organized and we are going to hit it with Ted as the heavy and Razor meeting us on-site to be our magical support. A full team effort. We are going to get her out tonight. In theory. I don't know, Tee. It is a corporate black site and we have absolutely no intel about it.”

Lighting up a cigarette, I hand it off to Sara who takes a short draw before she gives it back. She never liked smoking but once a year or so Sara will take a hit. What can I say? My twin looks good with a cigarette between her lips. My mind returns back to the sober topic at hand after a moment.

“If we had any meaningful intel about it then it would be a shitty black site,” I lament after some time.

Sara goes to say something but just shrugs. I nod before the both of us walk back toward Emy's. It is quiet as our fixer gets every detail we have and formulate a plan. I just go over my equipment. Checking the edge of my katana before sheathing it. Loading each of my guns with a full magazine. Making sure I have backup magazines for when I need a quick reload. Then it is time. There is nothing else we can do but go to the coordinates. We take Emy's large van and we are off. Taking the small comm from my sister. I place it in my ear before closing my eyes. Waiting to get there. To keep my mind empty I must block it all out. At least for a moment.

After my twin returns back from a quick jack into the matrix. I am told that the exterior is more an estate than a lab, but that doesn't mean anything. A very clever way to disguise the entrance to a black site is to seem like it is something completely different. We have no intel on this place but here we are. This is the epitome of a bad idea, but we have to do it, right? God, maybe not. This is almost how it all went down before. But, we are all hyped up and need this.

“This can go bad very fast,” Ted says with his voice lower than usual. Driving just fast enough to stay under the radar of Lone Star. “We have no idea what is in there or how much they have.”

“Which is why I am jacking in as soon as we are on-site,” Sara informs as the van comes to a stop. “Their security might be hot but fuck them, man, I'm novahot. Drekhead motherfuckers have been holding our friend for almost a fucking decade.”

The rain pelts me as I exit the van with Ted by my side. We circle the house in the dead of night to what appears to be a service entrance. The door is slightly ajar. So we approach with guns drawn. All three of us ready to unload at the first sign of a gun or a weapon of some type. But it's the tall elven shaman Razor. Piercings cover his ears while a small rat sits on his left shoulder. Which is probably what totem he draws his magic from. A machine pistol in his hand.

He gives us a nod, “the door was unlocked but the top floor is clear. That much I know for sure. You two must be Sara and Tegan?”

“Yeah, Razor, this is they. I've told you about them before. This is Razor. I've been running with him for a year or so before the fuck up that was Portland,” Ted says as quick and quiet as possible.

“Good to meet you, but did you find a jack?” My twin asks, her patience thin. Thinner than it has been in a long time.

He nods, “yeah follow me. I killed the cameras but I bet they know something is up. Probably got ten minutes before this place goes on high alert.”

The mansion is impressive and ornately appointed by someone who gets paid to do such a trivial thing. Past antiques, art, furniture from high-end brands. To a small security station positioned across the hall from a large steel door. A dead guard lies off to the side. Hidden mostly from view by the desk. A pool of blood underneath the man yet no evidence of pistol rounds riddling the body. No, magic. Something shamanistic got this man, something Razor did. It's been a while since I've run with a Shaman but I know their handy work.

“Jack's in the terminal,” Razor instructs.

“I'll be back. Don't draw attention yet,” Sara orders as she sits down in front of the terminal with her cyberdeck on her lap. Connecting into that before plugging her deck into the port itself.

Draw attention? We probably have alerted the whole facility. Waiting for us on the other side of this heavy security door. Just waiting for us, like idiots, going to end up in an old school shooting gallery. One by one we shall fall down dead in an ill-fated run that I was once so sure about now not so much. After a moment an alarm begins to go off as the heavy-duty door begins to open.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask.

“That is the whole facility knowing we are here now,” Ted replies.

Sara steps up beside me. “The door is open,” She says matter-of-factly. “We are going to have a real fight on our hands.”

“Guns blazing,” I step forward toward the elevator. “How many people here?”

“Twenty scientists and roughly the same amount of security. It was a very secret black site,” Sara replies. I know her intel is good. “So had a small garrison. They are mil-tech. Let's go.”

How did this day turn out like this? I was drinking real coffee relaxing with my sister. Repressing feelings, nursing a hangover, a typical day after a successful job. Now here I am strapped to the max waiting to fight off well-trained corporate special forces. Not like it is the first time. Never easy. Especially when you are on their home court. Still, as I wait for everyone to step onto the platform. I can't help but smile a little. I never got closure all those years ago. At least this chapter of my life will have some closure. If only just a little bit. Plus, I'm in a mood for a little violence.


	3. Chapter 3

A voice, quite distant at first just barely able to be heard, calls out to me. I don't recognize the voice or tone immediately, but it sounds and feels so familiar. What is it saying? Looking around me, or at least I think I am, all I see is nothing. A darkness so thick and inky that I can't see anything else. Standing on something firm, unless my mind is playing tricks on me. The voice returns after some time. More insistent then before. Still indistinct and unrecognizable, but the voice is persistent. That's something that just feels so obvious to me right now. I can't pinpoint where it comes from. Seemingly coming from all-around me yet there is nothing. Just the inky black darkness that seems to empty into a void that goes on forever.

Where the hell am I? Better yet, where was I? I know we went down into the belly of the beast. I remember that. Yes, a small corporate prison where they can hide their most wanted fugitives. Do some weird experiments and tortures on them while the governments turn a blind eye to it. The scene plays out in my memory against a black drop. With the guards protecting the cells easily dispatched. We interrogated a scientist and a soldier who survived. Yes, this I remember.

The void begins to fill in with more details of that event. With one in particular standing out. Sara and I stand over a couple dead scientists. Ted and Razor watching for anyone come from down the cell-lined hallway. Blood splatters over the walls and a couple small pools forming on the floor. We've both been grazed by bullets thanks to the firefight. Covered in both ours and their blood, mostly theirs. A blinding red neon light hurts my eyes as an alarm ceaselessly sounds through some unseen speakers.

“That should be all the guards. At least according to the duty roster we lifted earlier. Which, ya know, would be pretty rad,” Sara says, taking a moment to catch her breath. “The top secret cells are through that door. Once Razor and Ted are in position we'll go in. Take out any prison guards and scientists that we might've missed. Liberate Lindsey.”

“Liberate,” I can't help but express my sardonic state-of-mind through my tone but there it is.

When we finally find the large database in all of its modern, sleek glory. Neon lights all lit up like some type of street fair. Sara easily jacks inside of it and despite finding a lot of data we can sell for a sizable amount of nuyen. The one thing she did find of particular interest was Lindsey's file. Oh God, I can't believe what they did to her. More than sixty percent cybernetics. She is legally a cyborg, and I doubt she even feels emotions anymore, or if she does perhaps they are all hidden behind the cyberware. It is all chrome of the nova hot sector of technology. Even above military and governmental. The type that is incompatible with anything right now. Anger fills me when I think of the only other woman I've ever loved being turned into this robot. Nothing we can do can truly save her. Not to bring her back to what she once was.

Then it is back to the, unfortunately, now familiar black void of nothingness. As the voice grows louder, ever more insistent. It causes a blinding light that pierces through the darkness. A wave of pain shoots through my right eye. At first it is a mild annoyance before becoming more persistent. More insistent. There are no sounds of battle. No screams of pain or bursts of gunfire.  
As my eyes open I rejoice at the fact that I can see again, but it is a sterile room. A medical clinic somewhere. No doubt a street doc. This isn't the first time I've woken up in a street hospital recovery room after a job. But, never have I woken up alone. My head is throbbing, in fact it is screaming in pain, and I can feel the wounds on my face. Reaching a hand up I feel the scarred flesh on the right side of my face. I let out an involuntary cry as the cold stainless steel meets my finger tips. What the fuck happened to me? Cybernetics? Oh God. Millions of different scenarios come to mind to explain what happened.

A voice comes from behind an overly clean door. One that I know so well and despite the pain and sudden realization. I can't help but smile. Knowing full well it is Sara when she walks in. She looks as if she has been crying recently. Mascara streaks just below her eyes.. No doubt about whatever the hell happened to me. No words are said. Sara comes up to me and wraps me in a tight hug.

“Holy shit. You're alive,” She says, barely able to contain her crying.

“Am I not supposed to be?” I ask, not able to compose my thoughts let alone my words. Thankful my wit is still active and going strong.

My twin hugs me tighter and I chuckle a little before coughing. Happy that my voice still sounds like me and not a computer. Not that it would, but you never know. But the biggest question on my mind needs an answer.

“What happened?” I ask as she moves away.

She looks away for a moment. A sigh escapes her lips and glances at me with a small smile. 

“The doctor says I shouldn't tell you yet,” Sara replies. “Says it might upset you, Tee, but I disagree with that.” After a short pause, one that seems longer than it is, my twin resumes, “I'll tell you this. You saved my life – everyone's life – you took a shot to the right eye. I-I thought you were dead. I mean, they say you technically were for a bit.”

I don't say a word but my hand comes up to feel the smooth, lukewarm steel plate covering my skull. There are no exposed wires. However, my fingers find a chrome and plastic-lined port. A datajack, one more part of my humanity taken without my knowledge. My right eye seems to work just as well as it did, or perhaps I can't tell the difference. Hell, it is probably better than it ever was. Blinking doesn't clarify anything for me.

With a short sigh, I look at my sister but there's nothing to say. Not right now anyways. She stays with me for awhile but I find my eyes closing after some time. By the time my eyes reopen I am back alone in the clinic's recovery room. The digital clock on the wall tells me that it is just past midnight. No wonder I am by myself. Sara is probably back home sleeping.

Feeling restless and already tired of being in the bed. I push the blanket to the floor and hold my breath for a second until I see my legs are all there and attached. Wiggling my toes just to confirm to myself.

“Maybe this won't be too bad,” I say to no one. “Not like I have a choice.”

Hasn't been too long so I can walk fairly well with only a little soreness. Taking the IV stand with me. I sneak off into the restroom for a moment before washing my hands and looking into the mirror. Not fully sure what I am going to see. The cybernetic plate is integrated into my flesh damn near seamlessly. Smooth, metallic, well-done integration into my flesh. While my skin is red and swollen a bit, irritated, and painful, of course, but it is still healing. My eye is a single solitary optic camera with a faint red light. Nothing mil-spec, but definitely better vision than I get from the left one. Covering one than the other. I think I might be wrong. Actually, are they the same? This is far from ideal but this happened. I can't go back and what am I going to do? Be mad? I am in the sense that I almost died and lost time with my sister. Nah, it figures I'd get severely hurt at some point. I am just glad I didn't die, or even worse, that Sara didn't get hurt. I couldn't live with myself if she did. Then again, I hate the idea of her thinking I died, or actually dying.

“Shit.”

How long was Sara waiting for me to wake up? More than obvious she was sobbing just moments before I woke up. Now she's probably at Emy's sleeping like she deserves. With a bit of a grunt, I bend over to splash water against my face. The metal reflects the artificial light in a weird, surreal way. I'm not too sure how to feel about it anyways, but does it really matter? Drying my face off. I exit the restroom and sit on the bed with another sight. Everything hurts like drek.

A knock on the door is the prelude to a female ork in a lab coat sporting a multi-colored short mohawk with a few small horns spread upon her head. Her jaw is small, unusual for her kind, but does sport two small fangs. She posses a clipboard in her hands and a quizzical expression on her face.

“You should be in so much pain that you wouldn't want to move, chummer,” the woman's voice is low, husky but caring. “Impressive. I'm Doctor Roxy Goldsmith.”

“Yeah, that's me. Impressive. That's why I took a bullet to the eye,” I reply trying not to be sardonic and bitter.

She scoffs, grabbing a chair from against the wall and sits down near me. Looking over the chart and then at me for a moment. The doctor says, “according to the read outs your cognitive functions haven't been damaged. It was at low risk since I didn't have to actually dig into your brain, but its good to see that nothing has been affected. I want you to stay here for a couple more days for observation. Then you should be good to go. Is there any odd shapes or colors you see?”

Scrunching up my face, I don't notice anything. So, I shrug and shake my head, “nope. Everything actually seems clearer than before.”

“I had to get rid of your optic nerve. I mean, it was mostly mince meat by then.”

“Good to hear,” I scoff.

“Sorry, sorry. It ended up being a complete mess that also affected your other eye. So, I replaced both of your optic nerves with synthetic ones. Emy paid for top-of-the-line cybernetics for you. That and I owe her a favor.”

“Yeah, half the neighborhood owes her one or two,” I grunt as I move positions to try and find one that's actually comfortable.

“I'd wager more than that,” the doctor replies while still looking at her notes. “You have vision like an eagle. It should improve your quality of life dramatically. Even outside of jobs. Reinforced your skull with a synthetic nano stainless steel weave with a solid stainless steel plate to replace your orbital bone. You are extremely lucky. The bullet missed your brain by less than a tenth of an inch. Your luck is quite impressive. I mean, if it hit your brain you would have been dead. I can't piece a brain back together. No one is that good.”

“Goddamn,” I say with shock. What the fuck actually happened? If it didn't hit my brain, why can't I remember it? “I need to ask, doc. Why don't I remember anything if it didn't hit my brain?”

“It's a mental block of some sort. Trying to save the psyche from breaking or something. Sorry I can't help. I can get you some pills,” she offers, but the look on her face tells the tale of the tape.

Shaking my head, “nothing more than I need. No pain meds or any stims. I don't like that shit.”

The ork gives me a soft smile before standing up. She turns towards the door, but glances at me for a second, “I bet you are hungry. Your sister went to get some food for the both of you. She should be back soon. Get some rest. See you in the morning.”

Recovery seems to take forever, but Sara spends almost all of her free time with me in the clinic. We play games on her deck, or watch holovids about the newest bands or celebrity gossip. I don't really care what we do, honestly. It is just great to spend so much time with my beautiful twin. Of course, Emy and a few others come to visit but I am only there less than a week. Given some drugs and told to take it easy for the next few months. I am just glad I got a nice nest egg. Always expected to get hurt one day. Never really thought it would happen, to be honest, but here I am.

“Thanks,” I say to Sara as she helps me get into my apartment. Not that I really need the help but I am still a bit wobbly and sore from being in bed for so long. It is so nice to have her dote on me. I can live happily like this but alas.

“Tee, anything I can do to help I don't mind doing. I fucking thought I was going to lose you,” Sara locks the door behind us before pulling me into the hundredth hug she's given me in the last twenty-four hours. “Emy's going to come over in a couple hours with some home cooked food. Not that mass produced soy crap.”

I grin in anticipation of the delicious food Emy makes whenever she does a get-together, and now I get it because I got hurt. Sara caring for me and her girlfriend's food. As much as I hate to think of Emy as my twin's girlfriend. It is what it is. I will make the best of it. Plus, she is an amazing woman. I am sure a part of her is blaming this on herself. 

“What's she making?” I ask as I sit on the couch across from the holovid display. Lighting up the first cigarette in forever. Taking a long, satisfying draw.

“I'm not sure, actually, but I bet it is rad. That woman can be a chef,” Sara sits down beside me with the small remote for my holovid. Once she turns it on a kaleidoscope of colors lights up my shadow-strewn apartment. “I'm going to stay with you tonight.” That is definitely not a question.

“Good, I kind of wanted you to. I was going to ask. Do it like we did back in the old days, ya know?”

Sara nods after a fashion. Her eyes not leaving the display in front of us. Her datajack port gleaming in the inconsistent light.

“You sleep against the wall this time,” she replies, taking the cigarette away from me to take a hit before passing it back.

When Emy comes by she has Ted in tow as well, and it does me good to have such a delicious meal in good company. Especially once I see she made her veal marsala. Can't even help myself from nearly salivating at the prospect. My pain isn't null but it is gone enough to pretend like it isn't there. 

“That's when Sara jumped up and yelled, 'that was fucking awesome!'” Emy gestures wildly as she retells the story of when my twin had to fight her first Black IC and nearly died. Yet to her, it was just a fun, bad ass experience.

A chuckle escapes my throat, “I was so fucking worried about you, chummer. Those things can null you out. But, you got through it.”

“Got through it?” Ted sips on his beer. “She got into Helix International's database in minutes and voided the fucking Black IC.”

“What can I say? Novahot, right?” Sara smirks before sharing a kiss with Emy.

“Definitely,” Emy replies almost in a voice just meant for the two of them.

I roll my eyes and look away before letting out a sigh, “what exactly happened, guys? I gotta know. The doctor said my brain wasn't hit but I can't remember other than bits and pieces. M-my memory ends right after we got on the elevator.

The room goes quiet as we all sit in front of our empty, dirty plates. I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket and light one up. 

Emy glances at Sara, who has her feet propped up on an empty chair. Her features have hardened. After a moment she sits up straight as if to say something but she stalls a moment. Allowing the silent hum of the fluorescent lights to fill my ears for a moment.

“Okay, I'll start,” Emy begins, lighting up her own cigarette as Sara gets up and takes the dirty dishes to my sink. “The team infiltrated the prison successfully with minimal resistance.”

“Yeah, no. It was going nova hot at first. Iced small groups of guards. Past criminals, corporate spies, and everyone that will be buried for easily the next decade. We didn't care about them. Made it into the server room. Danced past their security. Found Lindsey, but it wasn't really her,” Sara takes a moment to compose herself. After a moment of trying to form the words. She just stops herself with a sigh.

“They turned her into a cyborg and was using her as an assassin on high priority targets but had no real free will. Those drekheads did it to spite us,” Ted spouts out. The man was never an ork to hide his emotions. And, his emotions are definitely worn on his sleeves right now.

“We got holovid of what happened next. I was able to get a connection once Sara cracked their defenses like an eggshell,” Emy adds, flicking the ash off her cigarette.

The room is quiet again sans the humming of the fluorescent lights. A never ending sound that always exists on the outskirts of one's hearing. After a moment, the holocomm is placed on the table for me to see the display. It comes alive with a high-definition video of an older ork clad in mil-spec body armor. He holds a large rifle in his hands and appears to be talking on a comm.

“Yes. I'm ready. Yes, sir. Give me ten minutes and it should be handled. Yes, sir,” his voice is gruff. Like the man is a two pack a day smoker. Cybernetics and bioware skin grafts cover the majority of his head. This man has elite mercenary written all over him.

What comes next is one of the most horrific things I have ever seen. All of us together running past rows of empty cages by now. Blood covers all of us but none of us seem to have any serious injuries. Then we stop as the ork steps into view of the camera with a massive gun nearly the size of myself. The barrels on the gun begin to rotate. It is obvious that the gun is pointed at Sara. The me in the vid push her to the side as the whirring of the gun reaches its crescendo. However, that's when I took the bullet for my twin. It happens in an instant as an almost cloud of blood mist forms from behind my head. Before the figure of me collapses to the ground. Seemingly dead as several gun shots and a magical bolt unleash their fury on the ork.

Looking over at Sara, who looks away with tears threatening on the edge of her eyes. It is easy to see her hiding back her emotions. 

“No idea who that ork is yet. He survived, but we hurt him quite a bit. So, I've sent out a lot of contacts and feelers. Especially for the street docs that I know in the entire city. Null and void so far, Tee. The man doesn't seem to exist,” Emy shuts off the vid and plops back down on her chair. “Middle-aged, hell old for an ork.”

“Damn right,” Ted interrupts as he steals one of my cigarettes and lights it up. A habit from when he is truly stressed.

“Full of cybernetics and bioware of the highest tech. Merc. Not corp or Lone Star. Perhaps special forces from the tribe nation or even Azteca, but I am just spit balling here,” Emy begins to rub her temple. Standing up to head over and grab the bottle of vodka from my freezer. Pouring us all a measure before sitting back down.

“Yeah, so, we were fighting nothing but ordinary corporate prison guards,” Ted adds before drinking his vodka with a deft, quick movement. After a beat, he continues, “then that jackass shows up and tries to ice you with one of those high-end mil-tech rotary guns.”

Looking over at my twin for a moment. The tears are slowly streaming down her cheeks, and it breaks my heart to see it. I don't call her out on it, nor do I stare for too long.

Drinking the fiery liquid forces a content sigh out of my lips as it settles in my stomach. I ask, “how did we escape?”

“After we tore into him with our guns I threw the flasher. Lifted you on my shoulders before hauling ass back the way we came. We parted company with Razor before we got into the city's limits. It was off to Roxy as soon as Emy got in contact with her,” Ted exhales a cloud of smoke.

When the night begins to grow long. I thank the both of them and give each a hug and we say our goodbyes. After some time it ends up with Sara and myself sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Lost in the matrix doing whatever-the-hell she is doing. My focus isn't on the mindless drek you find on the holovid networks. A big part of me doesn't want to know who this ork is. To not even pursue revenge. Though, pissed as I am at this drekhead. Novahot at him and get my hands on him. To just forget it and be happy I am alive. I doubt it will be that easy. That this is the last we've seen of this ork. My twin is scooting closer to me from the other side. Meaning she is exhausted, and will be drooling on my shoulder soon enough.

It has been obvious throughout our entire lives I've always been the stronger of the both of us, physically. That doesn't mean I won every fight, but it does allow me to lift a sleeping Sara and carry her into my bedroom. Taking off her boots prompts my twin to turn toward the wall. Still, deep in whatever she is dreaming about. Soft neon light streams in through the blinds and the slightly parted curtain. Adding a softness to her pale complexion. Playing off the chrome and plastic from the datajack. Bringing up a hand to me own port, and this forces a sound of disgust out of me.

Walking to the fridge I grab a bottle of synthetic alcohol, and pop it open with the side of my counter. Before I hoist myself up onto a sitting position on the cold fake wood counter. Dangling my legs off the edge as I process everything, or try to.. The cold bitter liquid soothes me for the moment. I want all of this just to go away, but there's a nagging feeling inside of me. A feeling I wish I didn't have. Lighting a cigarette as I walk over to the window. A gentle rain is falling outside filtering the neon light through its own spectrum. It is comforting in a way.

“Tegan,” I hear my twin call out.

Snuffing my cigarette before heading toward the bedroom. Intent on sleeping beside my twin for the first time in years. This is something that just won't go away. No, we aren't that lucky.


End file.
